Sambucky Will Save Them All

Why Tom Hiddleston is so precious???

In which we are all James Corden

 Bonus: because Tom’s response is precious

You can't make it with me! I just cried with this!

i don’t normally like writing imagines about the aftermath of freddie’s death, but ever since hearing ‘the place where the lost things go’ all i can picture is you putting your three children to bed, and your youngest (probably aged three?) asks “mummy, why’s daddy sad?” and you haven’t told them about fred yet, it’s only the following day since he passed, so you just smile sadly and say “he’s lost something very special to him.” and they ask if they can help him find it, and you can’t help but laugh at their innocence and as you tuck them in, your oldest (probably about ten?) just looks like they know. so, you start to sing a lullaby you made up for them when their grandmother died, and soon they drift to sleep as you stroke their hair fondly but when it gets to the last verse, you notice brian/roger/john leant against the doorframe watching silently. they haven’t spoken all day, just sat alone in your room grieving.

so, you change the lyrics, ever so slightly.

so when you need his touch,

and loving gaze,

gone but not forgotten is the perfect phrase.

smiling from a star,

that he makes glow,

trust he’s always there,

watching as you grow.

find him in the place

where the lost things go.

The cuuuutest thing!!

dead wrong — steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend since he was a scrawny pre-teen. turns out, his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.

contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.

a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍

fem!reader 5.3k words

gif by @barneswayne

Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.

Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.

A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.

He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.

“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”

Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.

“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”

There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”

Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”

A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.

Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.

“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”

Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.

“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”

You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.

“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.

He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”

You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.

Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.

Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.

“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.

Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.

“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”

Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.

“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”

Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.

Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.

Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.

You shrug. “No, not really.”

With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.

“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.

You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”

“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.

You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”

“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.

You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.

You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.

Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”

You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.

“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”

‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.

“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.

Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”

You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.

“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.

Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.

“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”

You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”

Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.

“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”

Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”

Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.

“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”

Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.

Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”

You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”

Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”

Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.

You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.

“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.

You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.

Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.

“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.

You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.

Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.

He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.

“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.

“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.

You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.

Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”

You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.

He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”

You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”

Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.

When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.

He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.

He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”

A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.

He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

-

You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.

You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.

He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.

“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”

Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.

“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”

Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”

Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.

“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.

Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”

Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”

Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.

“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”

“Steve!”

A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“

“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”

Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”

He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.

“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.

“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“

You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.

“What happened?” He demands.

Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“

“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.

“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”

You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”

Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lips so hard he almost bleeds himself.

“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.

Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”

She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.

“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.

“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.

“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.

Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.

“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”

He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

-

You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.

He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.

Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.

You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.

You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”

“Hurting?”

You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”

You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.

“Steve?”

Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.

“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.

You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.

“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”

He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?

You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”

“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.

“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.

Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”

“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”

Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”

“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”

Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”

You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.

“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.

“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”

He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.

“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”

You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”

He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.

“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.

You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.

Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.

When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.

“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”

Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“

He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.

He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”

He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.

“Wait, Steve.”

Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”

You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.

His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.

Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.

He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.

“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.

Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”

“She’s tired.”

“But we bought chocolates.”

“Well—“

“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”

Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.

Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.

Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.

“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.

But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”

He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.

“Love you too,” you mouth back.

Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah

This is so precious omg

Roger Taylor & Felix Taylor

Day 3 of productivity

Today I watched some classes and did some paper of clinical psychology. And it took all the afternoon. After that I did read some fanfic and smau, because that is something that I do every day. Oh, and I did read a little of that book of the photo. And that's it.

Everyone who reblogs this post by 11pm EST on Saturday June 22 will get a Good Omens headcanon in their ask box

Yes, e v e r y o n e

Loved it so much. Hope that you continue writing. If you do, can I be tagged, please? 🥰

Sacrifice [Snippet]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/n Byers and Eddie Munson were killed in the battle. Vecna had claimed their lives and murdered them right in front of their friends’ eyes. They died heroes, saving the town that hated them both. And now, months later, the first Christmas since Hawkins’ destruction had come around. But no one celebrates. Instead, they are entering hell to finally stop Vecna. They were prepared for everything. Or... so they thought…

[i've been working on a new series but i'm really not sure if it will be worth continuing. please feel free to let me know in the comments or in my asks whether or not you would like me to keep going or just to scrap it lmao. but, to be clear, this would involve kas!eddie...]

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of death, mentions of blood, mourning/loss

Sacrifice

[Snippet]

Present Day. North Hawkins.

“Merry Christmas, guys.”

Dustin’s voice calls out into the darkness and they all take in a breath. It was Christmas already?

Nine months. That’s how much time had passed since Hawkins became a town full of monsters. Since the battle, one they had miserably lost, their home had been destroyed by Vecna’s efforts and everything they knew was flipped upside down.

They would have given up. The party would have left when they had the chance, as would have Nancy, Jonathan, Steve and Robin. But they couldn’t leave, not yet.

Dustin remembered that night as if it happened yesterday. It haunted his dreams, danced around in his mind until he felt nothing and everything all at the same time. It consumed him, the thought that he had lost someone.

As he curls up into his sleeping bag, tears slipping down his cheek, his fingers gently brush against the torn fabric wrapped around his wrist, a familiar design tugging at his guilt.

He never even got the chance to take care of those little sheep.

March 1986. The trailer park. Upside Down.

Eddie led there on the ground, body slowly becoming numb to the feeling.

A few nights ago, he would never had imagined that this would be how it ended for him. Hell, he wouldn’t have even begun to thought that he, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, would have done anything other than run away. But he didn’t this time.

Even as the blood drained from his body and his vision darkened, he was proud of himself.

You had been the one that always told him he was braver than he thought he was. His love, the girl that fell for even his weirdest characteristics, was the only part of his life he ever saw the meaning of. You were his, and he was yours. You were his reason to live. But, as it turns out, he had many reasons to die.

There was a split second of guilt when he stopped climbing that rope. He knew you’d be furious with him for even thinking about leading the demobats away. But Dustin was right there, calling out to him. And he adored the kid like a little brother he always wanted. And he knew that, even if you were mad at him for it, you’d understand why he did it.

“EDDIE!”

Eddie slowly opens his eyes just as Dustin crouches beside him, tears streaming down his face. He really wished he didn’t have to see this.

“Oh god, Eddie.” Dustin cries and Eddie chokes up blood, unable to meet his eyes.

“Bad, huh?” He attempts a joke, but the light inside him is already fading.

“No, no, no.” Dustin shakes his head, but his voice is thick with fear, “You’re gonna be fine. We just gotta get you to a hospital, okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie breathes out. His eyes finally lock onto Dustin’s and sadness floods in. Eddie knows he’s not going to make it. But he’s already made his peace. He made it as soon as those bats surrounded him.

So, after Dustin attempts to move him, he does the only thing he can. He smiles.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?”

Dustin lets out a soft cry as he beats against his chest lightly. “No, no. You didn’t run.”

“You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?” He begs, knowing that Dustin Henderson would be his only rightful successor. If he had to leave him, he at least wanted to let him know just how highly he thought of him.

“No, you’re gonna do that yourself!” Dustin protests with a sob and Eddie simply shakes his head, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“And…” His time is running out as another breath chokes from him. “… tell Y/n… I love her, okay? Please…”

Dustin struggles to speak. “I promise. I will look after them. And her.”

The sky above him was dark blue, crimson bleeding through the black clouds. A shot of burning light pierced through, highlighting the tiny white specs floating aimlessly above his face.

And, suddenly, death didn’t scare him anymore.

Eddie flashes one last smile before he feels himself slip away, muffled cries and whimpers fading into the silence.

There’s a flash of your face, your smile, your laugh. And then a flash of red before total, and complete, darkness.

Present Day. South Hawkins.

“Hey, guys? It’s Christmas Day.”

Robin looks up from her watch to stare back at her friends, a frown laced onto their faces before emotion takes over.

Nancy looks to Jonathan as his face drops, blood practically draining from his face. She gently reaches her hand out to comfort him. But he doesn’t want the sympathy. Instead, he stands, muttering something about taking watch before walking a few steps away and staring out at the red smoke in the sky just outside of their shelter.

She catches Steve’s eye, his own expression sorrowful before he cleared his throat and looked away. She felt helpless, unable to rid Jonathan of the pain he was feeling.

Nancy remembered every detail of that night, plagued by the memory anytime she looked at her boyfriend. She had lost a best friend, just as they all did. But Jonathan lost family. He couldn’t seem to make peace in any way, even knowing why his sister did it.

Y/n Byers died to save their lives.

March 1986. The Creel House. Upside Down.

All your life, you had been sacrificing your own needs for everyone else.

Usually little things, like driving Will to school even when you were going to be late for work. Or helping Steve and Dustin with a new-found theory when you were meant to be applying to colleges. But these things didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

Not compared to Vecna.

Fire was thrown at him in bottles, Steve and Robin aiming with all their might. Fire was the only known thing that could destroy the creatures from the upside down. But, as you stand there beside Nancy, and watch the flames simply dance along Vecna’s skin, you realise it wasn’t working as it should.

Guns were a back up plan. You had all thought for sure that the fire would take him out, make him weaker. But it only made him stronger.

Nancy must have blasted hundreds of shots before Vecna finally stumbled. She was running out of ammo already, and he was recovering from every bullet, and every scorch.

As you look to your friends with wide eyes, their breaths are unsteady. You clutch the weapon in your hand. It was only meant to be a last resort. None of you were meant to get that close.

Vecna was practically breathing the fire before someone made a move. Steve grabbed a knife and threw, aimed just right to pierce the monster’s heart. But he was prepared, arm outstretched to hold it in the air as the others gasped.

“Shit.” Steve mutters as the knife is slowly flipped, pointed edge staring back at him. Vecna was staring him down, building power to shoot it back at him. He wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge it.

They were just lucky that Vecna never got to the chance to attack.

In the distraction, you had gripped onto your spear tightly, moving around him and, at the very last moment, you jumped forward and plunged it into his chest with all your strength.

Sure enough, he screeched out in pain, the knife clattering to the floor as he struggled to pull the metal out of his body. The action caused him to stumble back towards the window, fire still burning in places as Nancy readied her gun once more.

But, to your surprise, Vecna slumped to the ground, eyes fluttering shut as something oozed from the mark you had made.

“Holy shit!” Robin exhaled after a minute of silence, a breathy laugh leaving her lips before you all felt grins of relief on your own faces.

You were all too busy in your premature celebration to notice the slight movement in his hand, or the way his eye twitched. In fact, you didn’t know he was still alive until his bony hand wrapped around your neck and pulled you towards him.

“NO!” Your friends screamed, fumbling for any kind of weapon.

Vecna had you in front of him, your body shielding his. And the only weapon worth using was the shotgun in Nancy’s hands, a force strong enough to tear through the wall he had put up. Strong enough to tear through you.

His claws dug into your skin, drawing blood, as your eyes met Nancy’s fearful ones. You could almost see the options guilting their way into her brain, dancing around as she tried to find another way.

But the sheer pain-inducing grip Vecna held you in made one thing clear; you were going to die regardless.

“Do it, Nance.” You nod with tear stained cheeks and her eyes widen, pooling over with emotion.

“No.” She shakes her head profusely. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’s okay.” You try to smile, Vecna’s hand digging further into the area just below your neck. It was excruciating to say the least.

You couldn’t ask Nancy to shoot you, to bear that guilt. You didn’t expect Steve and Robin to either. All you knew was that if you were going to die, it would be on your own terms. And it would take Vecna with you.

Red light blared through the window behind you, stronger than the flickering lights above your head. You squeezed your eyes shut, mustering up a silent apology. To them, to your brothers.

To Eddie.

His only ask of you, before you left him and Dustin, was to stay alive. That was his only request. And despite how you longed to see his face again, to watch as his cheeks dimpled over with his wide grin, messy hair swaying in laughter… to simply just hold him… you knew what you had to do.

You hoped he would forgive you.

A single tear trickled down your cheek as you made up your mind, looking back at your friends one last time.

Before they could even react, you pushed off from the floorboards, throwing all your weight back into the creature behind you.

Screams and yells echoed around you in slow motion as Vecna crashed through the window, his grip tight on you.

You fell backwards through the shattered glass, already falling from the attic before his claws finally released you.

Then, it came in flashes.

The feeling of air whistling past your ears as you dropped, your hair whipping at your face. The final moment of hitting the ground beneath you.

You felt your body break, the blood pouring from your mouth as you led there, staring up at the dark blue sky, crimson bleeding through the black clouds. A shot of burning light pierced through, highlighting the tiny white specs floating aimlessly above your face.

You weren’t afraid of death, not really, but the idea made you nervous. Yet, somehow, laying there, you were… calm.

The last thing you remember was your vision darkening, an image of Vecna leaning over you, hand hovering in front of your face.

And then, it all went black.

YES YES YES. I MISSED CAT DAD BAKUGOU.

Ugh, I love him so much 😍

I love all the "conversations" y/n has with Bakugou 😂

Poor y/n almost being violated in the vet 😂😂😂😂

Mrow | Part Three

Bakugou x roomate!reader

Summary: you & bakugou get a step closer to breaking your quirk

Words: 1866

A/n: honestly this is somewhat another filler chapter. just compressed all the cat dad fluff before we go back to the plot :D like the calm before the storm y'know

Part Two

🌟

The bell of the black collar with Dynamight's signature orange X jingled around your neck as you padded into the living room, your mere presence evoking coos & cheers from your audience hyping you up.

"YAS BITCH SLAYYY"

"Aww you look so manly, Sunny!"

"Prettiest furbaby to ever exist-"

You liked this. You felt like a furry little model.

"How did all you dumbasses manage to corrupt my cat within the 15 minutes you were here I have no idea."

With your mom Bakugou supervising of course.

"Aww come on, Bakugou! You gotta admit she looks soooo cute in her new collar!" Mina squealed excitedly, scooping you up into her hands to hold you in front of your roomates face.

He glared at you.

You booped his nose with your toe beans.

"Fine," he sighs exasperatedly, catching your paws between his large fingers as Mina lowered you from Bakugou's face, to peek innocently over your ears at the grumpy blonde. "But you idiots try putting that green fucking collar on her again, I'm disowning all of you," he growled, meeting each of his friends' eyes one by one with his threatening red glare, before he finally got to you. "You included, furry brat."

"Mau."

The entire bakusquad had came over to visit, having to drag Bakugou out of his office to make sure he loosened up & not work himself to death on top of working your case. Kirishima said the only thing stopping him from living in the office was needing to come home to feed you.

Mina had gotten you your newest accessory, having found out Bakugou had a new kitty for her to dress up. Amongst your friends- Dynamight, Deku & Red Riot's brands have released merch line for pets. The moment you saw the green collar amongst the black & red, you snagged it & ran, just to piss Bakugou off lmao.

He'd caught you by your scruff before you even had the chance to get Sero or Kaminari to put it on for you. The grumpy blonde had promptly chucked the bright green collar in the trash, blatantly ignoring Mina's protest & clicking on his own merch around your neck.

You huffed at your petty roomate. But you had to admit, black & orange looked good on you. Wearing his colors made something in your tummy flutter.

You felt like his.

🌟

You were flopped over on Kaminari's head, comfortable in his fluffy hair as you listened in on your friends' conversation, butting im every now & then.

"Have you gotten a lead on Y/n's case yet, Kaachan?"

"We're nearing the end of the second week since she got missing. You must've found something right?" Sero added.

"No," Bakugou sighed, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration.

"I've been working on it with Tsukauchi & there's too little to go off of. Her last sighting was from a nearby convenience store security camera but thats where it stops," he huffs, turning his laptop round to show his friends the screen displaying what seemed to be said security footage.

"They were no other security cameras in the area all her stuff were found. No eye witnesses either- one of those slow days. This is the only lead we have."

Kaminari reached out to click play & you joined the others who leaned in to peer at the footage curiously.

Sure enough, you see your human self walking through the aisle of chips before something seemed to catch your eye & you disappeared off screen. You didn't see the little thief you took off after in the footage, she must've took note to stay in the blind spots- only a glimpse of her feet on the top of the camera outside before yours followed & disappeared.

You had to admit that was quite impressive. That little thievery must've been well planned despite being a petty one.

"What about the time gap between the convenience store & the alley?" Kirishima inquired, interrupting your train of thought.

"Barely 10 minutes. Still leaves a wide window between the last time she was seen & the time she was declared missing."

"Meaning she could've either been with the perp for a matter of seconds or their interaction could've stretched way longer, huh," Mina concluded with a huff as Kaminari sped forward, further verifying that you didn't return into the footage.

Eh, its the first one- You cut yourself off when something on Bakugou's laptop grabbed your attention, making your eyes go wide.

Scrambling down from your perch on Kaminari's head, you toppled down onto his lap, making the blonde jump. Unfazed, you scurried to right yourself, eyes glued to the screen. Did you see right?

Oh fuck. You did.

With your new relevation you started yowling as loud as your little lungs allowed you to.

"Hey, hey, Sunny. It was just a little fall," Kaminari soothed, figuring that the little tumble had startled you as he picked you up with gentle hands.

Kami you're sweet but i'm so sorry-

You nipped the poor blonde's fingers, making him yelp in surprise, wiggling out of his hold when his grip loosened. Again you started meowing at the screen, desperate for them to understand, needing them to see what might give them a hint ro what happened to you, even if only a sliver of an inkling.

"Oi, what're you kicking up a fuss for? Its not your first time seeing things move on a screen," your roomate spoke up with an eyebrow raised at your odd behaviour.

No, Bakugou! Guys! Please, look!

There was a beat of silence as your friends watched your desperate mewls curiously.

"Is she trying.. to show us something?" Mina spoke up, the first to break the stillness, her voice unusually quiet. You crane your neck to find her staring at you so intently you could almost hear the gears in her head turning. Her gaze flickered to the laptop. Kirishima seemed to catch on, peering at the screen, rewinding the clip until a little figure caught his eyes.

"Is that..?" Kami asked in a hushed voice, eyes squinting in focus. The rest of the group leaned in, eyes glued to the small furry figure trotting across the screen.

"That's Sunny.." Sero trailed off. "Isn't it?"

"What the fuck?" Bakugou breathed out, bewildered eyes landing on you. You settled on staring back.

Hey, don't look at me. I'm just as shooketh as you are that the camera caught that. I also didn't notice how much of a waddle my little legs do.

"Hey, Bakubro.. you said Sunny came along the same day Y/n disappeared right?" Kirishima questioned, gaze slowly flickering between you & your roomate.

Your eyes widened.

Oh. Oh, this might actually go somewhere.

Around the room, all your friends fell quiet, everyone looking just as owlish as you did.

"But what does that mean."

🌟

You sneezed once from the chill of the winter air & Bakugou was plucking you of off his shoulder. You mewled out in protest, worried he changed his mind about taking you out.

You'd spent the entire morning by the front door, wailing at your roomate to get him to take you out of the house. You're still quite amazed at how loud & obnoxious cats could be, being such little creatures but of course you're exploiting that to your advantage.

The new bit of information left your friends grasping at ends to come up with a connection between your disappearance & Sunny's appearance. After yesterday, they decided to contact their old classmate Koda to translate your mewls just in case they were missing something. It would take a few days til then & you decided to continue your own efforts into turning yourself back human.

You've concluded that you needed to get out before you could make any progress in figuring out how to return human. Plus, you had better odds of hinting your identity to Bakugou, maybe even retrace your steps to where your belongings were found to solidify your friend's suspicions that you were somehow related to the case.

He had abruptly relented mid argument, strangely so, but you brushed it off, cheering in victory, completely missing the scheming glint in his eyes.

You would be damned if you let this opportunity slip away. But before you could inhale enough air to start yowling bloody murder, Bakugou cut you off, shooting you a glare as if he read your mind.

"Quiet down, dumbass. Quit squirming," he muttered under his breath, unzipping his jacket halfway. Before you could even comprehend what was happening, your yelps were muffled as Bakugou plopped you down into the inside of his sweater, the bottom tucked in so it made a little hammock for you.

Oh my god.

Rearranging yourself you poked your head out, chin resting at the V of the zipped opening. The soft lining & Bakugou's body heat making a warm, cozy cocoon, pulling out purrs from your throat. Craning your neck, you looked up at the red eyes already peering down at you.

"Good?"

I live here now.

Bakugou huffed out a breath in response before he continued walking on, blatantly ignoring the double takes & weird looks he was receiving from passerbys. You couldn't care less either, amused at the thought of the big scary prohero Dynamight having a new image as a cat dad. You snuggled into the warmth, enjoying the ride.

Just so you know, I am so stealing this hoodie when I turn human again.

🌟

It must be a sight, you think.

You were currently on the ground, having wiggled out of Bakugou's sweater when you realized where exactly he was taking you. You had his pant leg between your teeth, little feet firmly grounded- as if to hold him back from walking into the establishment you were in front of. You both knew though, the Prohero would barely need to tug on his leg to have you tumbling on your ass but he humored you.

"Sunny."

No. You meowed out best you can with the fabric in your mouth muffling your voice.

"We're going."

Absolutely not. I know where they shove thermometers up in that place.

Releasing his pant leg, you bunny hopped backwards to create some distance between you & the blonde towering over you, tail bristling into an angry poof. You growled a little, eyes narrowed & trimmed claws drawn, ready to attack the blonde if he dared move a muscle.

"Its just the vet, dummy. I want to at least check for a chip in case some little girl somewhere lost her loud as fuck kitty. You're a little too well trained to be a stray."

This again? Look.Why on earth would I resort to pooping in that sandbox in the living room if I can use the toilet perfectly fine?

Your roomate just stared at your meowing, face blank. You huffed, not noticing his hand edging closer & closer to you, too focused on making your point on public decency.

Ok listen, I fell in the toilet one time but-

You cut yourself off when something caught the corner of your eye. Bakugou's voice drowned into the background & before you knew it, your feet were moving on their own, dashing in the direction of that familiar glimpse of a person.

Its her.

🌟

A/n: i have such a love hate relationship with this chapter because of how little it contributes to the plot but hey i hope you like it! just some extra fluff before we wrap up this series next chapter <3

Series taglist: @deadpoolsvodka @zbeez-outlet @fixed211 @arael-asuka @sadcookie365 @slytherclaw1227 @tjmaxx556 @kuleo26 @answer-the-sirens @stxrrielle @call-me-drartemis @ouch-thats-harsh @coodoritoss @thychuvaluswife @dynakats @naneko-nakooooo @letharue @sleepylittlebarista @moonbinnie0983 @ninashellhole @phrogfungi @trash-heichou-kacchan @sad0nion @woodzonesworld @mushi42 @yappydoo @kazxtora @nnubee @chuugarettes @voidsatoru @freakyundercover @momdisappointment @simp4rengoku @yaskna @zane2408 @lynn-writes-things @dinodumbass @jihyuniepark @julietdelamare @captainchrisstan @atrainb @wannabewolf @cupidcole @atsushiki @trashbin-nie @mothmanuwu @skyesayshi @nezykoi @theredtater06 @lanaxians-2 @alextheknight707 @vollkornpraline @misakik28 @carnationhcs @some-ryvant @blubearxy @dangerousluv1 @seokjin-bby

A/n: there'a a limit to tags WHAT & i've reached the max lmao i'll see if reblogging works. if it doesn't i am so sorry in advance, the rest of my lil ducks :'D

Steven is so cute 🥹 I loved it!

𝘼𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙡

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭

𝘈𝘕: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦!! 𝘞𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘣𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴! 𝘈𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 :)

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.2𝘬

“Hey, Dad. Just checking in.” Steven would recognize that voice anywhere. He heard it every morning when you would leave for work, exactly 7:30AM each and every day. You had lived in the flat right across from his for the better part of a year, and he’d never once had the pleasure of hearing that voice directed at him.

“Oh, no, everything’s fine. I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while.” You called your father every morning, asking him about work or his garden or to talk about whatever book you were reading that week. Steven knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he loved hearing your hushed tone, the quiet laughs, as though you were afraid to wake everyone on the floor. He couldn’t help the smile it brought to his face.

One day, he told himself, he’d find the courage to step out of his flat while you were there, to say hello, to strike up a conversation. But each time his hand found the doorknob, you were already in the elevator. He would talk to you, one day. Just not today.

____________________________________________________________________________

You hummed quietly as you got ready for work. You had just taken a shower and threw on a pencil skirt you hadn’t even remembered buying. Even so, it was a nice change of pace from the slacks you typically wore. You searched through your closet for a decent blouse to match, finally opting for a navy blue button down. It was simple, sure, but you had no one to impress.

Gathering your things, you finally stepped out of your flat. Usually, you would give your father a call, but the sight of the man across the hall stopped you in your tracks. 

You had seen him before in passing, while checking the mail or rushing to catch the elevator, but never this close. Calling him stunning would be an understatement. He was taller than you, though not by much. His dark curls fell over his face in a messy pattern, nearly covering his deep brown eyes. You could definitely see yourself getting lost in them. Your eyes trailed down to his lips, plump and parted just slightly in surprise.

After a moment, you realized you had been ogling him. You cleared your throat slightly. “So sorry. I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone else out this early.” You flashed your teeth at him in a wide smile.

You waited for him to respond for a moment, or even to walk off, but there was nothing. He just stood, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Eventually, you raised a brow at him. “Right, no, right. ‘S fine. Fine.” He nodded, curls sweeping over his forehead. 

You eyed him curiously, brows furrowed slightly. “Alright. Well. Good morning.” Your grin lowered into an amused smirk as you walked toward the elevator. You heard the footsteps of the man behind you, moving over to allow him room. “Are you going down?”

The look on his face had you biting back a laugh. “S-Sorry, am I what?” He coughed, like he had just choked on air.

“Going down. In the elevator? To the first floor?” You chuckled. He was quite strange, you thought, but there was something endearing about the man standing beside you.

Once again, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah. That’s me. Going down.” You watched as he readjusted his bag, rocking back and forth on his feet. He looked nervous, never quite meeting your gaze. You pushed the button for the first floor, watching as the man beside you toyed with the strap of his bag. You weren’t sure what it was, perhaps it was his structured jaw, or the warm brown of his eyes, or the innocence that lurked beneath them. You couldn’t stop staring.

“I’m Steven, by the way.” His quiet voice broke the silence. “Steven with a V, that’s me.” He nodded, almost like he was reassuring himself of the fact. “N-Not that you asked. I just thought… you know, neighbors and all that. Might be useful.” The last few words trailed off. He seemed nervous, you thought, though you couldn’t wrap your head around why. You weren’t particularly frightening, were you?

You chuckled quietly, holding out your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Steven.” You offered your name as he took your hand. You were a bit taken aback by the roughness of his palms. He didn’t strike you as someone who was particularly active, given his physique was hidden behind a heavy jacket.

You broke your grasp on his hand as the elevator dinged, turning your attention to the doors as they opened. You sighed quietly as you stepped out. The way Steven followed you didn’t go unnoticed. You grinned over your shoulder at him. “Do you usually take the bus, Steven? I’m headed that way, maybe we could walk together.”

***********

Steven felt as though his heart would beat out of his chest. Here he was, talking to the girl he had dreamt about for weeks, and she was listening to every word he said like she was actually interested. Steven couldn’t help but stare as she threw her head back in a laugh at… whatever he had said. What did he say? Bollocks, he couldn’t remember.

She stood beside him on the bus, close enough that he could feel her arm bump his each time the vehicle stopped. He was sure the redness in his cheeks was painfully noticeable. All he could focus on was her presence. Her scent enveloped him, honey and vanilla, and he happily drowned in it.

Steven’s heart nearly stopped as the bus came to a screeching halt in front of the national gallery. “Right, well…” He cleared his throat. “This is me.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever sounded more melancholy.

He watched as your lips pulled downward in a soft frown. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss it away. “Oh, that’s a shame. It was lovely meeting you, Steven. We’ll have to do this again some time.” Steven’s chest tightened as you placed your hand over his. He was sure this time that his heart had stopped, that you had killed him with one single touch.

Steven nodded vigorously, mouth dry as he searched his brain for something, anything, to say. “Bye,” was all he could come up with before he scurried off of the bus. The feeling of your skin on his would haunt him the entire day.

____________________________________________________________________________

You were in the middle of preparing dinner for yourself when the knock on your door made you jump out of your skin. You set the stirring spoon down on the stove, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel before opening your door. Steven stood on the other side, eyes widening as you came into view.

You smiled as he lifted a hand in greeting. “Hiya. I, um… I came to see if you maybe wanted… if you weren’t doing anything a-and didn’t have any plans…” You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from chuckling. You weren’t wanting to mock him, by any means, but he looked so cute as he twiddled his thumbs and stumbled over his words. “O-Oh, are you already making dinner? Smells lovely.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you out, but you weren’t sure he knew how. “Well, I am already making dinner.” Your heart sank as his gaze dropped to the floor. “But I’ve made quite a bit, and I’m not sure I can eat all of it myself. Would you like to join me?”

Immediately, the nervousness that you suspected was always a part of Steven returned. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly. I-I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if you were looking for a quiet evening in. I wouldn’t feel right about ruining-”

“Relax.” You chuckled. “You’d hardly be ruining anything. Seriously. Come in.” You stepped aside, allowing him through the threshold of your flat. “It’s not quite ready, but soon enough.” You flashed him a grin before returning to stirring the contents of the pan. “Oh, I should have mentioned. It’s vegan. Hope that’s alright.”

Steven nodded, standing just inside your doorway. You watched as his eyes bounced around your flat. It wasn’t much, really. The rooms all sort of blended together, and your bed sat against the wall in lieu of a sofa. It was comfortable and affordable, which was its biggest appeal. “Vegan, yeah, yeah. ‘S good.” His brows furrowed as his attention settled on you. “Are you vegan, then?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer before he started speaking again. “Nothing wrong with it! I’m vegan, too. Just… curious.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Oh, no. My dad is, though. He made this for me all the time as a kid, and its still my absolute favorite pasta dish. Here, come taste.” You lifted the wooden spoon as you beckoned him over. You smiled patiently as he hesitated, then watched as his lips curled around the end of the spoon. 

Steven broke out into a pleased smile of his own. “That’s amazing! You made that from scratch?”

You giggled, nodding. “Well, everything apart from the actual pasta. I’m not that talented.” You hummed as you set out two bowls, filling both. “Here you are. Dining table’s just behind you.”

***************

Steven was convinced you were fake. This was all some strange dream his brain had crafted and any minute he would wake up, still strapped to the coldness of his bed. You were a talented cook, sweet as melted sugar, and were beautiful beyond belief.

Dinner with you had become a nightly routine. Somehow, he found himself in front of your door each and every night. He listened to your tales about work and you listened to his ramblings on ancient Egypt. You didn’t even seem to mind, he thought. Each time he looked at you, which was frequently, you were staring back at him with the same intrigued expression.

Tonight was no different. You sat across from him at your dining table, tracing the edge of your wine glass with the tip of your finger. The small movement had Steven completely entranced. His mind ran wild with thoughts of what your touch on him would be like. Would you be as gentle as you were with the glass? Would your fingers be as soft as they looked? Would you treat him with the same delicacy?

“Steven,” your voice broke him from his reverie. He hummed in response, eyes lifting to yours. His cheeks caught flame, as though he had just been caught in some act. Still, his nerves eased as you flashed a winning smile at him. “Would you like to stay over?” You must have noticed the panicked look in his eyes because you quickly added, “Nothing scary, I swear. I just thought we could watch a movie, lay in bed and veg. You know, good, old fashioned slumber party.” You shrugged, as though your words hadn’t forced an entirely new series of thoughts into his head.

As though he wasn’t imagining feeling your touch on an entirely new section of his skin.

Steven waited for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.” Was he shaking? He was sure he was shaking. 

Then you grinned, and Steven wasn’t sure he would be able to focus on anything else. You had the most adorable smile. It was big enough that your eyes closed with the effort, your nose scrunching in response. It was brighter than any star in the sky. “Amazing! I’ll get this all cleaned up, then.

____________________________________________________________________________

The film had only been on for half an hour or so, and Steven could already feel his eyes getting heavy. Something about being in the same bed as you, your scent enveloping him and warmth radiating off of you, brought him some small amount of comfort. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this at ease.

You seemed to notice his exhausted state. Steven nearly jumped out of his skin as you set your hand on top of his. “You can lay down, if you’d like. I won’t be offended if you fall asleep.” The soft giggle that left your lips set him aflame. 

Steven wanted to protest. Truly, he did. As he opened his mouth to speak, a yawn left him instead. He turned to you, a soft pout on his lips. “I’m terrible company, I’m so sorry.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Really, don’t worry about it.” You patted your lap twice, and Steven felt all the blood in his body rush anywhere that wasn’t his brain. “Here, come lay down. You deserve the rest.”

Steven wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion fogging his brain or something else, but he hardly hesitated to adjust his figure in the bed, letting his head rest in your lap. You hummed softly, and he was ready to jump up, afraid he’d done something wrong.

As your fingers swept a few curls away from his face, Steven could feel his eyes drifting closed. Every muscle in his body relaxed for what felt like the first time in years.

Steven was only awake long enough to hear you whisper, “I’m so glad to have met you, Steven Grant”, before he finally allowed the darkness of sleep take him. This time, in a realm where nightmares often consumed him, he saw only you.

Steven knew, in whatever capacity, he was glad to have met you, too.

THE. CUTEST. THING. EVER. WRITTEN!

Absolutely perfect. Poor Eddie is so in love and so desperate 🥺🥰

Head Over Heels / Code Lime Green (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

Summary: Dustin’s code red — the one that disrupted your perfectly good night — turned out to be a false alarm. But maybe racing across town wasn’t so bad after all.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: curse words, self indulgent fluff

(Note: this fic does not follow any timeline that is canonically possible.)

I do not consent to my work being uploaded on any other platforms, translated, nor copied.

A/N: I’m 90% sure this trope has been written before, if not already overdone. But I wanted to try my hand at fluff, so I hope that’s okay ;)

Wether it be through comments, shares, asks, or anything, all feedback is appreciated!

check out my masterlist!

You ran through the halls, your shoes screeching loudly on the grimy tiles that were usually being trampled on by you and your classmates.

Except now the school was eerily quiet, only your laboring breaths disrupting the silence.

Ignoring the snarls from teachers who stayed after hours and cutting every corner, you finally burst into the drama room, exactly where Dustin told you to meet him. He was incredibly specific, his voice urgent and blaring from the walkie he had given you last summer:

“CODE RED. I repeat, CODE RED! Meet me in the drama room NOW.”

A rush of cold flooded your veins at the message. You grabbed the device and you were in your car not a minute later. You sped down the streets like a madman - running stop signs and steering so erratically that you almost hit a squirrel.

As Dustin’s frantic words echoed in your mind, the most horrific scenarios conjured:

Is there another gate open?

Have any monsters gotten into the school?

Is Will okay?

You held your breath as if it were your last the entire way to the drama room.

Now, exactly where Dustin needed you, you find that there is. . . absolutely nothing wrong.

No danger. No demogorgons. No commotion.

It was just the Hellfire Club.

Actually, it was just two members of the Hellfire Club: Dustin and Eddie, folding DnD game boards and collecting stray figurines.

What the hell is going on?

An unworried, completely normal Dustin looks at you and smiles. It’s the same smile he wore when he finally beat Max’s score in Frogger. The expression quickly devolves into something more confused, however.

“Why are you breathing so hard?” he asks.

“You. . . You said ‘code red.’”

“Yeah? So?”

You throw your hands up with a dry laugh. “Have I gone mental? Code red is worst case case scenario. Just last week you were complaining that I’m always late to code reds and to rush.”

He tsks. “Yeah, because you are always late. But now you’re here, right on time, and I need a ride home.”

You gape at him, your fists clenched so tightly you think you might break your fingers.

“. . .Your code red was needing a ride home from Hellfire?”

He shrugs, nonchalant. “Yeah.”

Eddie - a presence you had completely forgot about until this moment - snickers from the corner. Your gaze shoots to him, eyes filled with rage daring him to laugh again. He puts his hands up in a surrender and quickly ducks his head.

He hopes you didn’t see him blush.

“Dustin,” you continue with a sigh, “that’s, like, a code, I don’t know. Lime green or something.”

“That’s not a thing. Lime green means nothing.”

“You are deliberately missing the point here.” You groan. “Why couldn’t Eddie have taken you home?”

Holy shit.

You know his name.

You didn’t call him “freak” or anything, either. You called him by his name.

And, damn, did it sound good from your lips.

As you continued fighting with Dustin, Eddie watches, somewhat entertained but mostly freaking the fuck out because you’re in the drama room after a Hellfire session.

Embarrassingly, Eddie has imagined this scene often. You, coming to Hellfire. Maybe to go on a date or just to see him.

He’s imagined a lot of things, admittedly. You drinking coffee he made for you, you in his arms as you watch a movie together, you next to him in the school cafeteria.

You laughing at one of his jokes. You kissing him. Even you simply standing next to him.

You, you, you.

A few short weeks ago, as he watched you through not-so-discrete glances in English class, biting your lips in concentration as you took notes, Eddie decided he’s had enough of imagining.

He decided that he was going to talk to you, ask you out, and hopefully go on a date with you. If you don’t burst into laughter the second he starts asking, that is.

Either way, the girl of his dreams or the worst heartbreak known to man, he vowed to talk to you.

The first time he tried went very poorly.

He waltzed up to your locker, an entire speech prepared.

But he’s pretty sure he just ended up staring at you for three minutes straight.

“What?” You asked, looking confused and a bit terrified.

Eddie realized that he came over, leaned on the locker next to your’s, and did nothing.

Absolutely

fucking

nothing.

“Shit,” he blurted. You jumped. He hated himself. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to— um.”

As you looked up at him expectantly, realization crashed over him like a tidal wave.

You were too good. Too sweet, too beautiful, too kind.

And Eddie was Eddie. The Freak of the school. The Cult Leader. The Outcast.

You, a gentle wind carrying fallen leaves and stars through the sky, could only ever be a dream.

“I just wanted to know if you had notes I could borrow from last period?” he asked.

You frowned and turned to rummage in your locker. You handed him a page from your notebook. He took it and practically ran.

When he got home that night, to a trailer that would never smell like you or be warmed with you or echo with your laughter, he couldn’t do anything but sulk.

Wayne got over that very quickly.

“Son,” he said, “if this girl has you wrapped around her finger this tight already, then there’s no harm in tellin’ her how you feel.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

“But what if she does?”

It was two weeks after that endeavor that he saw you again, your nose in a book and your eyes lighting up and your smile making his heart ache.

He thought of his vow and Wayne’s words and you — always you. And he was again resolved that he would talk to you. He just needed a little help.

He almost thought that he would never hear the end of it after he asked Dustin about you during lunch.

“How do you, Dustin Henderson, the boy who wears Weird Al t-shirts and thinks it’s cool, know her?”

“Weird Al is cool, and she used to be my babysitter.”

Gareth was the first to joke: “You wish she was your babysitter, huh?”

Then Jeff: “He wishes she was his anything.”

“Very clever,” Eddie said.

“The rebel and the babysitter,” Gareth joked, again. “You guys could be a John Hughes movie.”

Wheeler tried to have his fun, but Eddie promptly cut that off, “Shut up!”

But he thinks all of that may have been worth it because shit, you know his name.

Dustin was eager to help Eddie get to this point. To you. (“She’ll be yours in no time, Eddie. Just let me pull a few strings.”

“Okay, well. That makes it sound like you’re going to kidnap her.”

“If that’s what it comes to.”

“Ah. How comforting.”)

And you’re here, just like Dustin promised and how Eddie imagined. Dreamt. Fantasized.

The kid actually did it.

Eddie is definitely getting him a new D20 die for this.

Dustin shakes his head in disbelief. “You are especially grumpy tonight.”

“I am not.”

“Eddie, don’t you think she’s being grumpy?”

Dustin looks to him expectantly, his eyes widening as if to say, “Here’s your chance, man. I’m serving it to you on a silver platter. Take it!”

Take it!, Eddie thinks, nodding. Take it! What are you waiting for?

“I-I think the lady is being very reasonable,” he blurts, his voice shaking in and out of an embarrassingly terrible British accent.

He can’t believe he opened his mouth at all.

Why did he just say ‘the lady?’ Why did he put on an accent? Why did he think he was prepared for this? Why—

“Thank you, Eddie,” you say. “See? He gets it.”

A better question, he realizes, is why hasn’t he mustered the guts to speak to you before?

He’s opening his mouth again, bolder with your receptiveness, and he doesn’t know what comes over him when he says, much shakier than he intended, “Your pajamas are cute.”

You freeze, eyes boring into his. Your angry expression softens as you become flustered. Your lips twitch into a smile, your cheeks flush.

“O-Oh.” You look down at your outfit - your baggiest pants on with ‘Tears for Fears’ plastered across them. “Ha. Thanks.”

“I love them.”

“You do?”

No, Eddie does not love Tears for Fears. But he thinks he might be in love with you, so he will buy their album on his way home and try to love Tears for Fears.

“Hell yeah,” he lies, for now. “They rock.”

You smile and Eddie thinks his knees might give out.

You have gone over this moment a million times in your mind. How you would greet Eddie, talk to him, laugh at every one of his jokes. In your wildest dreams he would get down on one knee the minute you smiled at him, but that seemed a bit hasty.

Point is, you had this moment all planned out since your big fat crush on him started. Right down to the little details.

Clearly, as you stumble over every word and wring your fingers together, your planning was no use whatsoever.

“How was the, um, campaign?” You ask, so timid that you bite your tongue after in shame.

But he smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle and his dimples show, and suddenly you don’t think this is going too poorly.

“Really great,” he answers. “Better now,” he adds, and he wants to die because of it until you giggle at the corniness and now he wants to live just to make it happen again.

Dustin, on the other hand, wants to hurl.

“Okay,” Dustin interjects. “I’m glad my plan is going well, but I have a curfew and my mom will be irate if I don’t get home soon.”

“Plan? What plan—”

“Okay, let’s go!” Eddie jumps over a chair to get to you and ushers you out of the door. “Wouldn’t want Dustin to suffer the wrath of his mother. Or mine, really,” he muttered.

All of your questions fade away as Eddie’s hand rests on your lower back, guiding you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you to your car?” he says.

You nod. You try not to seem too disappointed when his hand falls from you.

You ask, “How’s your band coming along?”

“You know about Corroded Coffin?”

You giggle, again. “Of course I do. You guys rock as harder than Tears for Fears.”

Eddie can feel his heart beat all over his body.

“It’s going, um, fine. We only play for a few drunks, but it’s something.” His hands start trembling. “You should come see us, if you haven’t already. Tuesdays at—”

“At the Hideout,” you finish for him.

He huffs something akin to a laugh. He pushes open the door at the end of the hallway and you step outside.

“Make yourself known next time you come,” he says. “It would be nice to know there’s a pretty girl in the crowd cheering us on.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard you think it might bleed. You smile at him, unable to form words much less string together a sentence.

He smiles widely back at you. You can feel his warmth from how close you’re standing. You can feel the toe of his shoe pressed to yours. You can hear the hitch in his breath and see the determination in his eyes.

He’s is about to say something when Dustin interjects,

“This is taking way longer than I thought it would. Can we please—”

“Dustin,” you bite, strident, cold, and suddenly sobered from your lovesick haze. “Remember that campaign when I Iured a demogorgan out of your estate, nearly jeopardizing my character?”

“You can’t use that every time—”

“How about that one when I fought evil Russians?”

“I don’t see the relevance of either of those—”

“Or when you made me race down here from the other side of town to give you a stupid ride?”

“Okay! Okay! I’m going. Jeez.”

“Henderson.” Eddie stops him. “You put evil Russians in a campaign?”

Dustin glares at you. “Yeah.” He lies through barred teeth.

You smirk, your skin heating with your smugness. Or maybe it’s because you can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheeks as he speaks.

“I thought I taught you better than that, young warrior.”

“I—”

“The car!” You urge.

“Fine!”

“More importantly,” Eddie continues, eyes flitting from Dustin’s retreating figure to you, “you play DnD?”

“I used to, but they don’t let me anymore.” You snort. “They didn’t love having to hold my hand through every step of the game, you know?”

“Not really,” he says. “I’d hold your hand every step of the way.”

You freeze, staring at him wide eyed. He stares back equally surprised at his words.

He knew he would say something to fuck this up eventually. That was too over the line.

He stands in front of you motionless, all of the blood drained from his face. This might be more embarrassing than any moment he’s had tonight, but he just can’t think. Especially not with you looking at him like you are.

“I should probably get home, too,” you say eventually. You stand there for a few moments, hoping he might say something else. When he doesn’t, you bid, “Well, goodnight, Eddie.”

There his name is again, making his stomach flutter and all the courage he has swell in his chest.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” The question escapes lips almost breathlessly as you’re turning away.

Your steps falter. Your breath catches in your throat.

“What?”

“I. . . Christ.” He laughs uncomfortably, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I want to take you out on a date.”

Eddie feels like he can breathe with the question off his chest. Now it’s all up to if you’re going to hate his guts after this or the impossible — you liking him back.

You smile, you actually fucking smile, and ask, “Do you actually want to take me out on a date or do you still claim Tears for Fears rocks?”

With a small groan, he drags his hands down his face. “Saw through that, did you?”

“Like glass.”

He shakes his head disparagingly and, with another breath of courage, steps closer to you. “I can dig Tears for Fears.”

“You can?”

“Sweetheart, I’d listen to nails on a chalkboard if it meant you’d give me a chance.”

He’s once again so close that if you leaned in just slightly, you could press your lips to his. You could pull him in by the collar and taste him. Feel him. Have him feel you.

But instead, you kiss him on the cheek. “Have their album memorized by Friday and I’ll consider it,” you say, sarcasm coating your words like honey.

He chuckles, a boyish delight bright in his eyes.

As you turn on your heel and walk toward your car, you hear him call, “I’ll pick you up Friday at 7!”

“6!” You call back as you climb behind the wheel. Dustin lets out a small, “Finally.”

Dustin is almost bouncing in the passenger seat when he asks, “Did he ask you out?”

A strangled sound of surprise escapes your lips. “Why would you ask that?”

“That was the whole reason I called you down here.”

A beat.

Then, “Your code red was Eddie?”

“Seriously, do I have to connect all of the dots for you?”

He rolls his eyes as you continue to stare at him, utterly perplexed.

“Eddie has had a crush on you since forever but he never had the guts to talk to you. Thus, my genius plan to get you to come to the drama room. Thus, your date.” He sighs. “Must I continue?”

You let his words sink in, your breaths shallow and your teeth worrying your bottom lip.

Holy shit.

“I’m like Cupid,” he says cheerily.

“I don’t think Cupid ever reveals his master plan, Dustin.” You laugh. “He also doesn’t make me run around school when I could be home watching TV.”

“Well, he just got you a date, which is much better than any Family Ties rerun.”

Eddie waves at you as you drive out of the parking lot, a smile brighter than the moon igniting one of your own.

“Yeah,” you say dreamily. “I guess so.”

You are so getting Dustin a milkshake on the way home.

Eddie Munson taglist: @chickpeadumpsterfire @luvslogan (having a taglist is insane!! I feel so cool. Thank you for reading 💗!)